There’s long been a tradition in this country of viewing negative criticism as “un-Australian” or a manifestation of tall poppy syndrome. It seems to tie in with Australia’s ongoing cultural inferiority complex.
“Good on them,” the line seems to run about mediocre rock bands from Adelaide to Cairns, “for getting up on stage and having a go. Bloody good on ya, mate.”
Wasteland, the second album from self-styled Sydney garage rockers/punks Dead Farmers is OK. Three blokes singing over loud, noisy guitars and thumping drums like they’ve just tumbled out of the pub and into the recording studio. I’m sure they’re damn good blokes to have a pint with. If you haven’t heard any of the albums by their obvious influences (the Who, the Stooges, Rolling Stones), you might find it invigorating – all the casually tossed-off capsule guitar solos and boozy bonhomie. The thrash metal drumming. The guitar sound on Wasting Time reminiscent of R.I.P Society label mates Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys – but without any of the poignant melodies or gut-churning vocals.
I can’t really imagine any other reason you’d want to listen to this more than a couple of times, though. It’s generic garage rock, the sort Australia excels in – and that’s much of the problem here. For starters, it’s always much better experienced live. Secondly, Royal Headache, the Gooch Palms and ScotDrakula (to name but three), and whichever band label boss Nic Warnock is currently playing in (right now, Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys), do this sort of defiant tribute to pre-punk rock music far better – and unless you happen to go drinking in whatever pub it was Dead Farmers tumbled out of on their way to the studio, why wouldn’t you check those out first?
How often can we listen to a bunch of blokes yelling tunelessly and with seeming little inflection before we grow tired of it? Taken in isolation, the songs are much more palatable. Bone is good, in a shameless Who appreciation way and with its constant repetition of the “I don’t mind” motif. Being a big fan of Motörhead, I also like On My Own – although I prefer my metal licks a bit heavier. Sick is pure Stooges, Changes is Rolling Stones … or perhaps influential Australian punk band the Scientists (who were also very Stooges in their time).
Incidentally, Wasteland isn’t punk – or perhaps it is punk, in the style of Dead Farmers’ beloved Minutemen. But it certainly ain’t punk in the tradition of Ramones. There are too many guitar solos, like the one that dirties up Tongue.
In defiance of the current trend sweeping Oz garage, there is no reverb anywhere on this record, or any other post-recording effects. Much like AC/DC used to record. In the 70s. The music was recorded straight to half inch tape and then minimally mixed by Eddy Current Suppression Ring’s Mikey Young.
Well, good on them for all that. I guess.
Warnock writes about the album, “Dead Farmers are a group that makes me feel OK about having an affinity for rock music.” The band is one of the main inspirations and catalytic agents behind the formation of R.I.P. Society eight years ago. And good on them for that too. The label has long been responsible for many of the excellent and inspiring moments from the Australian underground. Warnock’s fanboy enthusiasm for music is one of the many reasons his label stands out. But every now and then, the law of averages demands a turkey … or at least, a below-par offering.
You have to admire Dead Farmers’ cheek in calling their opening song Love – bearing in mind it lifts the riff from the 60s band’s most famous song wholesale – but, really? C’mon. In its own way, Wasteland is safer than anything either Taylor Swift or Beyoncé have produced for years.
• Wasteland is out now through R.I.P Society
